


Head in the clouds

by fluid_fanhuman



Category: Original Work
Genre: Abusive Parents, Anxiety, Bisexual Protagonist, Crush, Daydreaming, Depressed Protagonist, Depression, F/M, Female Masturbation, Friends to Lovers, Insomnia, Mentions of Rape, Overweight Protagonist, Pining, Self Acceptance, Self esteem building, Strangers to Friends, Therapy, abusive household, love sick, mentions of self harm, self love, sexual fantasies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-10-07 10:16:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17364128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fluid_fanhuman/pseuds/fluid_fanhuman
Summary: "It's just me."That was right. It was just her. Just an average youg woman, lost in the world and unknowing of her future. But, does the future even matter if one is still stuck in the past?





	Head in the clouds

With a low sigh, she dropped back onto the bed, a lost stare directed at the old ceiling. The remaining sweat of the attempt to work herself to a by now miserably failed orgasm clung to the soft skin, a huff of defeat fled her reddened lips. After a few moments, the young woman sat up, dark blonde hair clinging to her sweaty shoulders, sat up and casted a rather disappointed glance at her first own purchase at an online sex shop. The thing hadn't felt great at all and it had hurt as well, so much for reading the feedback before buying products online. She had considered going to the store near her school but she just couldn't get over herself. By no means had she grown up in a prude household, yet talking about something like female masturbation was still frowned upon. In 2018!

"Guess I'll sanitize it and send it back... Maybe I'm gay after all." It was a mere thought spoken out, simply because the atmosphere of her bedroom seemed like it wouldn't be heard. It wasn't like many people listened when she talked anyways. The girl set herself up to the task to properly clean and sanitize the wicked little toy, thoughts still lost somewhere else. Maybe she just didn't know how use it, her actual experiences with sex were... short lived and to be frank, just traumatizing. At least they had been. For a long time actually. But after going into abulant therapy for almost half a year and still now after almost four years seeing regularly a therapist, things went on. Life went on. The earth kept spinning and spinning and spinning...

The world stops for no one. 

It would be best to forget tonight, just lull yourself to sleep and go on with life. The same thing day in day out. Exactly that was usually the strategy which kept her alive. Knowing the day would eventually end and a new one would begin, she'd never have to do this day again. But since she was on medication and actually worked on improving the quality of her life, this made it occasionally harder to just go on. It was easier just living from one day to the next but now... it was frustrating. The young woman tried everything to improve, to change and to move on but it seemed as if whatever entity in the heavens, or one might it call fate, just plainly denied these options for her. 

She studied hard to graduate with a passable grade, she was able to love her body even though it was slightly over the healthy standards. She liked being soft. She confronted people now who played her out and insulted her, called out her rapist and talked to him. But there were just a few unmovable bricks in her road and lately, the girl was noticing how much it had been getting to her. Well, actually they had been there her whole life, which made it especially tricky to get rid of them. Or even nudge them. 

The biggest of them was the scariest one and it regularly costed her a lot of strength to not just give up and bow to its feet once more. She'd broken loose once but it kept pulling her in every day like a poisonous spider net, toxins that slow your movement and make you drowsy, unable to think, just made to obey. 

This rock was her mother. 

To accuse a mother of being abusive seems like the biggest ridicule. It is always the mothers who strive to castrate the rapists, the mothers who free their children from their burdens. Always perfect angels. In her world at least. She would never openly call her mother abusive as well, not to mention what the people would think. It had been getting hard, aging and trying to become a stable, independent woman with a mother like this around.  
If you grow up as a servant, it's hard to ever lay down that role. She managed with the long absence in the hospital, but every day she is threatened to slip back in. To just give up and serve her, poor, sick mother's every will. Her mother has depression as well. In her mother's opinion, you can never suffer more than her, she is old, living with an abusive husband and no one, oh no one is ever there for her. Whenever the mother says this, she knows she breaks her daughters heart. The one who would sacrifice everything for the well-being of her toxicly beloved mother. 

But since things have changed, since the teenager had grown into a young woman who is still trying to get a grip on the steering wheel of her life to set a course into sunnier seas, the mother notices the detachment. The judgement. How hurt her daughter really is, how broken too.  
Of course she would never admit or have to admit to having wronged her precious child, as she gifted if with life and "love" for more than eighteen years now. In her world, she doesn't need to either.

\- 

The shrill sound of the alarm woke her up, all kinds of dreams lost with the light slumber that characterized her nights now. The young adult hit the snooze button a few more times than necessary, causing her to slightly oversleep and add unnecessary stress to her morning routine. With sleepy, heavy steps she made her way to feed the cats and let the dog out to pee before entering the kitchen and tend to prepare her own food for the day. It was still dark outside, hence the winter semester had started that day.  
A loud rumble from upstairs indicated that her mother was now up as well and a sigh left her throat. Her mother would be late for everything today again but she had tried to ignore it lately. It wasn't her responsibility. It had never been, even if she'd grown up to learn that her poor, poor mother was always in a bad mood if not constantly supported. The young woman pushed away the thought to finish her routine of caring for herself and the family pets in time. As her mother attended in the kitchen, a fleeting good-bye and kiss was given to her mother before the girl was out the door in the freezing, dark morning. 

With the social block of earphones and loud music another standard day should begin. In fact it would be a standard week overall, at least that's was she assumed so far. Things would tumble and crash downhill faster than she could even catch up with. And it all began with a SMS. 

It was during the very average day that said notification arrived. It was from the girls therapist, and it said that the lessons would be cancelled for an uncertain amount of time due to her mother having passed away. Her face went pale, the hope of getting to talk about everything that had been piling up over the holidays, gone in a whim. 

"Liz, you okay?", a friends voice tore her out of the horrendous thoughts of having to bottle up for perhaps a month longer. In a rushed manner Liz closed the notification before her friend could catch a glimpse at her phone display, hurriedly she reassured the young man that it was nothing. She'd just ran out of data, which wasn't actually a lie. With a sceptical expression by her french-italian friend, he let it slip and kept on talking about their shared hobby: pen and paper roleplay.  
It was fortunate at the moment for as Liz could get distracted by her friend talking and not actually fret on the feeling of despair rising in her chest. 

It wasn't until the end of the week until control would slip from her. 

After Lizzie had brought up the subject of moving out of the house on Thursday night to her mother once more and the final reveal that her mother could not actually pay the custody for her, shattered Liz's plans for the future. Saying it was like having the ground torn out from beneath one was the understatement of the century. All her plans had been foiled, all the preparations she had made, for nothing.  
Not being able to sleep the night with the dawning realization that she could actually NOT move out of this emotionally abusive household left her feeling helpless and the girl was tempted to fall back into old habits of self harm. Somehow, or rather, luckily the shock paralyzed her, made it unable for her to grip any of her favoured sharp objects and slice her skin until her hands were a deep shade of blood red. 

She felt certain that she would not survive very long, without her therapist. Without anyone to talk to. Her friends cared, yes, but she'd gotten wind of their own troubles. In retrospect it would have been smart to talk to them anyways and not lie to them, but humans never know what's best for them, do they? 

On Friday, she broke. 

Liz had grown more tired due to sleepless nights, bantering about how she would successfully survive this semester. In terrible addition it was also her final semester, the final exams barely three months away. She hadn't spoken, hadn't smiled and had blamed it all on lack of sleep if anyone dared to ask her. No one cared enough, but it was just how she coped. Maybe it was the best this way. 

It had shocked her as someone broke the pattern, someone to approach her, dig deep and not stop until a clear answer came out. Someone who Liz also happened to have an unfortunate crush on. The young woman had already come to terms that she would never be able to be in a relationship with him, that wasn't what messed her up. It was just- someone cared. Someone genuinely wanted to know what was wrong with her.  
Liz realized she'd still gone slack jawed in front of him. Her history teacher, a relatively young man, beginning his thirties, shorter than the average male and sporting quite the dad bod. In attempt not to lose it right then and there, she clenched her fists and took a breath. As she opened her mouth to reply that she was going to be fine, his words wrecked her world more than anything. 

"If you need someone to talk to, I'm here for you."

Before she could think, words rushed out of her mouth, "I appreciate that. Thank you." Liz was out the room faster than she could breath, barging out of the building the hood of her rain jacket pulled deep into her face. Tears spilled over, luckily it actually rained so they got lost on her face along with the raindrops. Her hands trembled and her breath was ragged as of she'd just run a marathon. 

The last few hours of her schoolday were absolute hell, her cheeks red and eyes still moist, distancing herself from everyone throughout the rest of the day. It wasn't until she was at home, back in the safety of her bed that she cracked, sobbing into her plushies and shaking. Someone cared. 

Someone cared.

**Author's Note:**

> This is me. These are my feelings recycled into something to Cope with my emotions and struggles.  
> I know it's nothing that should be uploaded but I'd appreciate if you'd leave a comment if you read and found this, I want to find more people who have the same kind of struggle as I have.


End file.
